


Settings Sons

by TVateMyBrain (datsunblue)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Beta Wanted, F/M, Future musings, Prostitution, can't possibly wait for next series!, let's get it on, possible canon divergence, what happens next?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datsunblue/pseuds/TVateMyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Tyrion and Sansa are married, there are certain things which must be dealt with. The boundaries of truth, honor, love, and friendship. Sacrifices must be made, but who will lose and who will gain?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tyrion - A hard truth.

**Author's Note:**

> After the end of season 3, this is my musings about what could happen next for Sansa and Tyrion.  
> (ignoring the books, obviously. I haven't got that far through them yet!)

Tyrion was looking out over the courtyard, his chin resting on hands atop the balustrade. He was pondering his conversation with Cersei. While he knew better than to trust his sister, he wondered if she might be right in this case. Did Sansa need a child to save her from a life of despair? His heartstrings twanged with pity for her. She was scarcely more than a child herself, and yet she was learning fast the ways the world worked. Day by day her mask grew stronger. He wondered how much of her naivety was still truth, and how much an act? He dearly wanted to protect that innocence, but suspected the price would be too high, for both of them.

* * * * *

The next night at dinner he watched her pick at her food until she excused herself. It must be difficult, he thought, her mother and brother dead, and she must pretend her heart was hardened against them. But he had seen her tears, alone in her chamber, away from Joffery's eyes. She had given him a glimpse of honesty there, perhaps he owed her the same.

“Podrick. Make up a plate of sweet morsels, some cheese, those cakes Sansa likes, if you can find any. And wine. Plenty of wine. Meet me at Sansa's chambers.”

Podrick was filling his wine glass. He nodded and headed for the kitchens. Tyrion wondered for a moment if the boy was actually very good at pretending to be a dimwit, or just a very lucky actual dimwit. 

He knocked back the last of his wine in three swallows, and pushed his chair back from table. Best get this over with.

* * * * *

“Sansa, do you wish to bear children?”

“My lord?”

“Motherhood. Have you thought about it?”

“I... of course my lord. A woman's duty is to bear sons. I hope to one day have many.”

They were seated in Sansa's chambers, at a table near the fire. Tyrion with wine in hand, The Seven knew he couldn't do this completely sober.

“Forgive me for being crass, but you do know how babies are made?”

Sansa blushed crimson and dropped her eyes.  
“Yes my lord.” Her voice quiet. He could see that she suspected where this conversation might be going.

Tyrion sighed. The last thing he had wanted was to burden her with this knowledge. It was a hard truth for him.

“Sansa, I swore I would never share your bed unless you wanted me to. But even if we did, you would never bear me sons.” His eyes were sad.

Sansa didn't know how to respond. She kept her face a careful blank, even if it was pink.

“You may have heard of my reputation with... women of negotiable affection. It is not all rumour, I must admit, though I'll not bore you with details. Let's just say, I am rather more experienced than I like to admit to you.”  
Here he took a deep breath. He had never admitted this to anyone.

“Despite all this, I have never fathered any bastards. Nor any legitimate children with my first wife.”

“You have been married before?” Sansa asked, puzzled.

“Yes, briefly. But no one is supposed to know. Father made sure of that. I was young and foolish and in love. Or so I thought. But it all turned out to be a joke at my expense. Or a good deed gone wrong, depending on your point of view.” He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice, but Sansa's face had softened a little. 

“The long and the short of it my dear, is that it seems I can not father children. Probably for the best. Who would want an even smaller imp running about in the world? Something my father certainly hadn't considered when he commanded me to get you with child.”  
Here he paused, to pour more wine, and to let his words sink in.

“Your father doesn't know?” 

Oh, but she was quick.  
“No one knows. No one but you. And I, of course.” He gestured a toast with his goblet, to their shared secret. “And I suggest we keep it that way.”  
He could almost see the wheels turning in her pretty head.

“If I do not bear you children.....” She trailed off, looking lost.

“It does not bode well.” He sighed. “My father wants our son to be the warden of the North when grown.”

Sansa could not hide her surprise.

Tyrion chuckled. “You see, you are quite a catch my dear, far better than I deserve. “The key to the North” father calls you. With your brothers all gone, your sons could be heirs to Winterfell.”

Tyrion frowned, He was deeper in his cups than he had hoped to be. He pushed his cup across the table, out of easy reach. But Sansa mistook his action, and rose to fill his cup for him. Was she trying to get him drunk? 

Her back was to him when she spoke.  
“What do you want from me?” Her voice was level. She was learning to recognize the signs of manipulation. That was good, he supposed.

He sighed. “I fear you will not like it. I do not like it myself.”

She returned to the table, and he was surprised to see two cups in her hands. She took a long gulp from hers.   
“Tell me.”

“I suggest we find someone to father a child on you, and pass it off as mine.” He supposed he could have done it more gently, but by now he just wanted to get it over with.  
“We need not do it right away. We could wait until you're a little older.” He amended.

Sansa was quiet. Weighing it up behind the mask. He was surprised she was taking it so well. But with women you could never tell if the anger might come back to bite you in the ass later on.

“I had almost resigned myself to the idea that you would be the one to take my maidenhead. Then the idea that I might never lose it at all. Now you tell me it could be a total stranger. I'm beginning to suspect I will be well rid of this burden.” Her eyes flashed blue anger for a moment before she shut it down.

“It need not be a stranger. It could be someone you like! Someone you trust!” Tyrion pleaded.

“My lord, I was given some very good advice once. Trust no one but yourself.” She stood up, back straight as an arrow. 

“You will find that sooner or later, you have to trust someone. You have time to think on it. Just not too long. Both our futures hang in the balance I fear.”

And with that he bid her goodnight.


	2. Sansa - The handmaid's tale.

Sansa sat at her dressing table, while Shae stood behind her, combing her hair and humming a little tune. The morning was warm and Sansa was still in her thin night clothes. “The blue dress today I think, maybe with the silver bird belt?”

“Of course.” Shea continued humming.

“What is that tune? It sounds very exotic.” asked Sansa.

“Something my mother used to sing.” Shae smiled.

“What are the words?” 

“It is in Lorathi. It is the tale of a young woman of low birth who falls in love with a prince.”

“What happens? Does she marry her prince?” 

Shae frowned. “I don't remember. I only remember a few verses.” She stopped humming, lost in thought.

“ I bet she doesn't.” Said Sansa gloomily. 

“Perhaps it all works out for the best? Perhaps the prince was a monster in disguise?” Shae teased her. There eyes met in the mirror, in acknowledgement. 

Shae began to section and braid the side portions of her hair, and Sansa thought of how her mother would style her hair sometimes back in Winterfell. But her mother was gone now. She sighed. Soon she would have to make decisions about motherhood for herself. Would she braid her own daughter's hair one day?

“Shae, back in Winterfell, I heard the women talk of Moon tea. Do you know what it is?” She made herself ask the question before she had time to get shy about it.

“Yes my lady. In Lorath we had something similar, made from the bark of a certain tree. It prevents babies from blossoming in a woman's belly.” She could see Shae was wondering how much to tell her, so she stopped short of asking if it was what whores used.

“I only ask because I no longer have a mother to guide me in these matters. I am a married woman now, but I still so often feel like a child.”

“Lord Tyrion did not take your maidenhead on your wedding night.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No, he was very drunk.” How much should she tell Shae? She was the closest thing to a friend that Sansa had, and she knew more about the world, at least, the world outside the castle. She sighed. “He said he would never make me share his bed unless I wanted to, and I don't think I'll ever want to.”

She didn't see the way Shae's face changed when she heard this. “He is a good man, you may find your feelings change, and if you ever want to have children, then you will need to share his bed.” Her voice was resigned.

“Lord Tyrion believes he can not, he can't make..... that we won't be able to...” Sansa trailed off. She didn't know the words.

“He is infertile?” Shae's voice was both sad and horrified. Sansa nodded, her eyes fell to her lap, so her handmaid could not see her expression. But Shae's next words were laced with pity. “My Lady, I am so sorry.”

After a moments silence, she spoke again. “His father does not know, does he?”

“No.” Now Sansa knew Shae understood. “And you must not tell a single soul. I don't know what he would do to me if he found out.” She shivered. Lord Tywin scared her. Not the way the Hound scared her. He was different, his eyes were cold, calculating. He could look right through her, and he knew the game much better than she did.

“My Lady, I swear, this secret will never pass my lips.” Sansa turned to face her, searched her handmaid's face. “There's more.” There was no point holding back the rest of it now. Tyrion was right, she had to trust somebody, this was yet another thing she couldn't do without help.

Sansa tried to swallow back the tears that threatened, and tried to explain. “He means to have someone else do it.”  
“What?” said Shae, genuinely puzzled for a moment.

“Some man must plant their seed in me, so that I can have a child, and pass it off as his. My first time must be with some stranger! Not even my husband.” She whispered.

“Makes sense.” said Shae, as she rubbed Sansa's back absent mindedly.

“What?” Sansa was surprised. Didn't Shae see how awful this was?

Shae looked down into her tear filled eyes. “Oh little sister, let me tell you a secret. One you will have to swear, never to tell.”

Sansa nodded, and lifted the sleeve of her nightgown to wipe the tears from her eyes, wondering what Shae would have to say.

“Back in Lorath, I had six little brothers and sisters. My father was the captain of a merchant ship. We were not rich, but we were not poor either. But when I was eleven, my father died. His ship was lost at sea in a storm. My mother was distraught. She stayed in bed for weeks, she prayed to the gods to bring him back to her. She ate hardly anything. I was the oldest. I had no choice but to try to keep my family together. After a month, there was no more money left in the house to buy food. The twins were only 2 years old, and they were growing sickly and thin with hunger. I took one of my little brothers out with me to beg for food and coin. We came home with only a crust of bread, which I broke into a pot of water and cooked on the stove. A few mouthfuls each was all we got. For two weeks I wandered the city begging for food for my brothers and sisters. Each day I came home with only a few mouthfuls, while my siblings grew more thin, more tired, more ill. Until one day we were down near the docks begging, and a woman came up to me. She gave me a whole loaf of fresh cooked bread and a wedge of cheese, and asked me if I would like to work for her. It was hard work, she said, but I could earn a living. She took me around the corner and pointed out where she lived. Come in the morning she said, and ask for Niala. I took my brother home to the others, and that night we ate toasted bread and cheese. I still think it was the most delicious thing I have ever tasted. Even better than lemon cakes.” She grinned at Sansa.

“The next morning I left my brother at home, and set out for my new job.”

Shae paused here, and Sansa wondered if her little brothers and sisters were still alive back in Lorath. The two of them might have more in common than she thought. “What was your new job?”

Shae smiled ruefully “Haven't you guessed? The place was a pleasure house.”  
Sansa gasped. She was horrified. “Oh Shae!” 

“Mistress Niala asked me if I knew what the place was. I said no. I thought she might want me to clean, or sew. You know what she told me? “We are here to sell dreams to men. To make them believe they are kings of the world, and for this, they pay us.” I had no idea what she meant. “Now you must be very quiet, no matter what you see.” and she took me into a small dark room, and sat me on a stool. “Watch” she said, and she slid back a panel and pointed to a hole in the wall. Through the hole I saw another room, a bedchamber, quite simple, with sheets turned down as if ready for night, though it was only morning. On the bed sat a woman in a robe. She was not beautiful, but not ugly either. She looked bored or sad. There was a knock at the door, and she got up to answer it. As she opened the door, her face changed, she smiled and seemed to transform. She was beautiful, and elegant. A man came in, and she said something to him I did not hear. She pushed him down on the bed and began to undress him slowly. I was amazed at what went on in that room, between a man and a woman.   
Mistress Niala had me watch six different women with six different men that day. Each time was different. Each man. Each woman. She asked me if I had done this before, if I was a virgin. I said I was, and she smiled, and told me, in that case, my first night's work could feed my family for a week. But first she would have to examine me to make sure. I was embarrassed, but I thought that if these women could do it, so could I, for the sake of my family. That night I lost my maidenhead to a stranger who had paid Mistress Niala well for the privilege.”

Sansa had tears in her eyes and brushed them away with the back of her hand.

“Oh, don't cry for me my lady! I did indeed feed my family for a week, and they ate well. Mistress Niala gave me three days off to heal, and then I went to work in earnest. Sometimes it was not so bad, sometimes the men were gentle, sometimes they were not. Some wanted me to do strange things. Mistress Niall said to scream only if I was in real danger, that the guardsman she hired would keep an eye on me, and I thought of the holes in the walls of the rooms. But I knew there was only one guard, and many rooms, with many girls. I also knew my family would starve if I did not do this. 

After some time, my mother began to get over her grief. She began to eat, and got out of bed again. One day she came down and ate breakfast with us, before retreating to her room. The next day she cooked the breakfast for all of us herself. She did not ask were the food had come from, until the day after. That's when she went to get money from the tin, to go buy more food. The tin was empty. When she asked my little sister where the money was, she said “Shae brings it home each morning.” My mother confronted me. I did not lie. I told her what I had had to do to feed our family. She flew into a rage and threw me out of the house.”

Shae was matter-of-fact about this. Sansa could not believe it. She must be a very strong person.

“Now dry your tears my lady, because I dried mine a long time ago.” Shae squeezed her hand, and patted her on the back, and stood up to get her dress ready. 

“But what happened to you?” Sansa was distressed. 

“Well, after that I went to live at the pleasure house. I had to pay for my room there, so I didn't have as much money, but what little I had, I slipped to my little sister. She told me they were not allowed to talk about me at home, and when I asked her what mother said about the money, she said that mother never asked where it came from, she just opened the tin and there it was. One day my little sister was crying. She told me that mother was taking them away, they were going back to her family in Braavos. I told her not to be afraid, everything would be fine, I would come and find them. The next day they were gone, and I never saw them again.”

“You really never saw them again?”

“No. Now come my lady, it's time to dress.”

“But that's awful! Did you try to find them?” Sansa had forgotten about her own problems for a moment. She slipped her dress on, and Shae began lacing her in.

“Sansa, my mother had disowned me. For doing something that she couldn't. It's all very well to let your emotions and your morals rule you, but it will not put food on the table, or save your family. You can not wait to be saved. You must save yourself”

Shae stood before her, looking into her eyes, holding her by the shoulders. 

“You have strength in you my lady. You have only to look for it.”

“I... I don't know about that Shae. I.....” Sansa felt lost, adrift in a cruel sea.

“I have seen it. You are a survivor, like me. Perhaps it does not seem like it now, but you are doing well! You are lucky to be alive! And you are the wife of a rich and powerful man! You need not go hungry, you need not sleep in the gutter. You have made sacrifices, and you will have to make more if you are to survive.”

Shae embraced her warmly then, and Sansa smiled tentatively. She supposed Shae knew what she was talking about. She had come this far.

“Shae, how did you end up here?” She was fixing her face now, the tears blotted away. She knew she would be called upon soon, the morning was wearing on. She added a little powder to her face.

“That my lady, is another story.”

There was a knock at the door. “Come in.” called Sansa, expecting her lord husband.   
Instead Podrick stepped through the door.

“My lady.” He bowed, shyly. “Lord Tyrion awaits you in the red gardens. If you are ready?”

“Almost ready, Pod.” She smiled at him. He was always polite and kind to her. Not like some of the others. He smiled shyly back at her. It was hard to believe he had saved Tyrion's life, this quiet boy. No one would pick him for a brave one.

Shae placed the belt around her waist, and Sansa smoothed the front of her dress.

“Alright. I mustn't keep my lord waiting.”


	3. Pod – Truth or Punishment

He knew it wasn't a good idea, but it was not as though he had a choice. Orders were orders.

"You're not keeping up Pod! Try harder." Lord Tyrion was pouring more wine into his cup. He felt so bloated it was a wonder his eyeballs weren't swimming around in his head. He wasn't sure this sort of training was working, and it left him feeling awful the next morning. Sword training left him feeling awful too, but at least he could think straight the next day.

"My Lord, I'm sorry." A burp escaped him. Oh dear. Now he was feeling queasy.

"A man who can't hold his liquor, can't .... you know, I'm not sure I recall how that saying goes. Can't hold his ... women? No. Ha! You're alright there Pod!" Tyrion smirked at him across the top of his brim full glass, which he slurped from without spilling even a drop.  
Pod blushed.

"Speaking of which, you haven't had any ... ill efffects? From your little, or not so little, visit with Little Finger's three lovely ladies?"

"Ill effects My Lord?" Pod wondered if he meant the stares and whispers. The other servants had apparently heard all about the whole “payment-refusal” issue. He wasn't sure what to do about it. Nothing, he supposed. He wasn't used to the attention, he didn't like it, and hoped they would forget all about it soon enough.

"No itching? Burning? In your pants I mean. I know a good man for the job if you do. Potions, lotions and notions, that sort of thing."

Oh. Now he was feeling very green.

"Why Pod, you don't look at all well..."

He felt it rising in his gut, and tried to stand, but his legs were slow to co-operate, and he struck his knees hard upon the floor as he went down. He managed to grab the bucket by the fire as it all came heaving out.

"Oh well done Pod! You didn't spill a drop! Did I tell you I puked all over a whore once? The poor wretched girl."

Pod wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He suddenly felt much better, though as he got up he swayed alarmingly.

"I'll just take care of that My Lord." He picked up the bucket carefully and lurched towards the door.

'No no, just put it outside the door, the maids will take care of it."

Pod opened the door, and almost walked straight into Sansa. She stood with her hand raised ready to knock, her mouth open in surprise. His breath caught in his throat.

"My Lady." He stepped back, holding the door for her, and trying to hold the bucket behind his back.

"Ah, my lady wife! Do join us! I was just giving Pod a little instruction in the art of drinking."

Pod snuck the bucket out the door.

"Pod? Where are you going? Come back here!"

"My Lord?" Pod sighed to himself and stepped back into the room.

"You are not to leave until I say so." He did sound so stern sometimes, Pod wasn't sure when he was jesting. But still, Tyrion was a much better master than... well, any of them really. Even with the drinking.

"Yes my Lord."

“Well, Sansa, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Tyrion turned to her as she approached the table. Pod rushed to pull the chair out for her, and prayed the lady would smell no evidence of him having emptied his stomach. 

“My Lord, I have been considering your suggestion of a few days ago, and I can see that is my duty to accept. As for the details, I can see you are otherwise occupied presently, so perhaps we could discuss them on the morrow?”

Pod had no idea what she was talking about, but it was obviously something she didn't want to discuss in front of him. He was hoping Tyrion might dismiss him he so he could talk freely with his lady, but luck was not on his side.

“Wonderful! A splendid idea. And I have another. Won't you join Pod and I for a little game?”

“A game my Lord?” Sansa managed to look both doubtful and intrigued.

Uh oh, thought Pod.

“It's called “Truth or Punishment”, and don't look so worried, it's not as bad as it sounds! Pod, there's a die over there somewhere, be a good lad and fetch it for me.” He waved his hand in the general direction of the corner of the room.

Pod knew where the box of dice was, and did as he was told. 

“And bring the rest of the wine while you're about it. I'm afraid dear Sansa, that wine is the punishment in this game.” His voice was serious. But his eyes twinkled.

“Now have a seat with us Pod.” He patted the chair with a wicked grin.  
“The rules are this. I throw the die. If I roll a one, I must ask a truth of the person to my left.” He nodded to Pod. “A two means Pod can ask me a truth. A three, I ask you a truth, Sansa. A four, you ask me. A five means I have to leap up and run around this table five times. A six, and we all must drink.” Tyrion filled their cups himself. “You can refuse to give a truth if you wish, but you must drink instead. I will go first to show you how it's done!”

He threw the die and landed a three. Turning to Sansa he asked “Sansa my dear, what is your favourite food?”

“Lemoncakes of course. I think you know that already my lord.” She was smiling.

“Well yes, I thought we would start with the easy questions. Now it's your turn Pod. Roll the die.”

He did., and rolled a six.

“Punishment for all!” Tyrion raise his cup in salute to his two companions and drank a long swallow. Pod tried not to gag as he sipped from his own cup.

“Have a little bread Pod. That empty gut of yours could use some lining I suspect.”

“Oh!” said Sansa after she tasted her own wine. “This is much nicer wine than we had in Winterfell. Why, I almost like it.” She took another sip.

“Yes, it's rather on the sweet side, but it will do. Your turn to roll the dice my dear.”

Pod put the die into her pale outstretched hand. His eyes lingered on her slim wrists and elegant fingers.

“A two! Does that mean you ask me?” She looked at Tyrion.

“Yes...”

“I'm drinking instead!” She interrupted quickly, putting the wine to her lips.

“Ah that's no fun!” He took the dice from her, and rolled a five. Sighing, he slid down from his chair and began to work his way around the table as fast as he could. His gait was comical at the best of times, when he ran it was worse. Sansa put her hand over her mouth and coughed to hide her smile.

“Surely my lord, three of your laps would be equivalent to five of ours?” She winked at Pod, and he nodded at her in agreement.

“My lady, you are indeed kind.” Tyrion finished his third lap, and bowing deeply to her, he took her hand and kissed it. “My saviour!” and he climbed back into his chair. “Now where were we?” He passed the die to Pod.

Pod threw the die, but it bounced and rolled from the table.

“It's a two!” Said Sansa, her head ducked below the table to retrieve the die.

“Ask Pod a truth my lady.”

Sansa was looking at him. He swallowed nervously.

“Hmmm. Pod.” She was tapping her fingers on her chin, her blue eyes drilling into him. He could feel his cheeks slowly going red. 

“Pod, did your mother call you Pod? Or did she have some other nickname for you?”

He grew even redder, and seriously considered drinking instead, but just the thought was making his bile rise. He cleared his throat.

“Well my lady, my name isn't actually Podrick, as such.” He'd surprised them both with that one. “My mother named me Poric for my great uncle. Ser Cedric was always calling me Podrick by mistake, and it just stuck that way.”

“I like it better anyway.” he added hastily, when he saw the dismay on Sansa's face.

“Oh! All this time we've been calling you by the wrong name! Why didn't you say?”

“Truly my lady, I much prefer to be called Pod. It's a name all my own.” He tried to smile at her in reassurance.

Tyrion was laughing and rubbing his eyes, finding it a great jape. “So, no cradle-name for you then?”

“Oh, no. I don't think so. My mother left when I was young.” Sansa must have caught some look in his eyes then, because she kindly moved the game along by rolling the die before Tyrion could ask him any more questions.

“A six!” They all drank, though Pod tried to surreptitiously not let too much into his mouth. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

Next, Tyrion asked Sansa another question, this time her favourite tale. Then Pod had to run around the table. He was grateful to get back to his seat. His roll meant he had to ask Tyrion a question. But what could he ask his lord?

“Was it really your idea? The... gift. That day we went to get the ledgers, my lord?” As soon as it was out of his mouth he wished he had kept his mouth shut. What was he thinking!  
Tyrion laughed. 

“What's this?” said Sansa, leaning forward.

“Sansa my dear, you know dear Pod saved my life. Well, I owed him for that. It was Bron who first told me that a man should have a woman after his first kill. I believe it's something to do with the balance of life and death, anyway it was Bron's idea. Mostly.” He raised his glass. “To Manhood!” He drank. “and to Womanhood!” He turned to Sansa solemnly, and raised his glass again. She joined him in his toast.

Pod saw something pass between them. He supposed it was surprising Lady Sansa hadn't heard the whole tale of gossip. Everyone else seemed to know. Still, it was rather mortifying to think of her, thinking of him that way. He felt a stirring in his breeches, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

The game went on a number of rounds more, until Sansa said she thought it time she was in bed. When she got up from her chair she stumbled and almost slipped sideways before catching herself.

“Pod, I think you'd best help my lady to her chambers. If you're able to?” He scrutinized Pod.

“Yes, my lord.” Pod bowed his head in acquiescence. It wasn't far. He was sure he could manage.

Sansa took the arm he offered her, though by the time they were in the corridor, he was leaning on her as much as she on him. At the door to her room, Sansa turned to him.

“Pod.” She said. Her eyes were glazed as she looked slightly down at him. She was tall. He looked up into her face. 

“How was it? Your first time?” He knew what she was asking. He gulped, shrugged. He had been able to answer Bron and Lord Tyrion's questions, but he didn't know what to say to her.

“If you could do it differently, would you?” Her eyes searched his, but for once he couldn't look away.

“I.... “ His mouth worked like a fish as he struggled for the words.

“Yes? You can tell me, Pod.” She took his hands in hers, in encouragement.

“I... I wish it could have been with someone I cared for, my lady. That's all. They were very nice girls, but....” He could not have admitted it to another man.

She sighed, and nodded. He thought he saw tears starting in her eyes, wondered if he had said the wrong thing.

“Thank you, Pod.” She said as she slipped through her door, leaving him out in the hall.

“Goodnight, Pod”

“Goodnight my lady.”


	4. Shae - Rumours

Shae liked these walks. Tyrion said the red gardens were a stage on which the members of court capered like fools. But Shae just liked to be out in the sunshine. Ahead of her walked Tyrion and Sansa, quite the odd couple. Tyrion looked back at her now and then, and Shae met his gaze with a cool stare. 

They had fought and then made up again when Shae had confronted him about his supposed infertility. No, he had admitted, the odds weren't good. She hadn't really thought about what it would be like to have Tyrion's child. She just kept taking her moon tea, as always. Maybe she should stop taking it and leave it up to the gods.

Poor Sansa, she thought, what was Tyrion up to now? They were far enough ahead that she couldn't hear their conversation. Beside her, walked Pod.

“How is your training going?” She asked him.

“My training? Oh, it's alright I guess.” He was not a great conversationalist, but sometimes he surprised her. “The hangovers are getting better I think.”

“Hangovers?”

“Oh, you meant my swordsmanship? It's Okay.” He shrugged.

“Has Tyrion been making you drink with him?” Shae hadn't thought Tyrion would lack for drinking companions.

“He said I needed to learn to keep my wits about me under the influence.”

“You shouldn't let him bully you like that Pod!”

“He's my lord. If he says “drink”, I drink.” Pod was looking at his feet again. He seemed to find them endlessly fascinating.

Shae sighed. There was loyalty, and there was stupidity. She supposed that not everyone knew the Tyrion that she knew.

“Try watering down your wine when he's not looking. He'll notice if you water down his, but if you half fill your glass with water, before you poor the wine, you should get away with it.” Tricks from the pleasure house.

“Or find a way to empty the glass somewhere when he's not looking.” she added. “Very few people can drink my lord under the table.”

“I've tried watering the wine.” Maybe he wasn't so stupid then. “I can't keep up, even at half measures.” His shy smile danced briefly across his face as he glanced at her.

Shae rolled her eyes and returned his smile. But the smile faded as she looked ahead towards Tyrion and Sansa. She supposed it could be worse. If only Tyrion had agreed to run away with her and forget all about this place. They could be lying naked in the sun together somewhere right now.

“Are you planning to visit my lord tonight? I could really use a night off drinking.”

Was that a joke? From Pod? She laughed.

“I'll see what I can do. No promises though.”

“Pod,” called out Tyrion, “I need you to go fetch Bronn, and meet me in my chambers.”  
“Ladies,” he said, “I have much to attend to, so I'm afraid I must leave you here.”

“I think we'll go on. It's such a lovely day, I'd hate to waste it” said Sansa, and the group split off in three directions. The girls wandered on down the path, side by side.

“Lady Margaery told me some interesting gossip about our Pod.” Sansa's voice was hushed with scandal.

Shae laughed. “I think I've heard this one.” she shot back.

“Do you think it's true? What do you think he did to those women?” Sansa's finger was winding a strand of her hair absently.

“He probably paid them to sit there and eat lemon cakes while he listened to their problems. I know that makes some women happy.” Joked Shae.

Sansa poked her in the ribs for her trouble. “But they refused payment, that's the whole thing!” 

“Why don't you seduce him? Then you could find out for yourself!” Shae was laughing.

Sansa stopped walking.

“What?” Shae turned to face her, and practically saw the wheels turning in her head. “Oh no, I didn't mean...”

“Why not? “

Shae considered the merits of the idea. The boy did seem to have great loyalty to his lord, it appeared he could keep his mouth shut, he wasn't ugly either, or cruel. And then there were those rumours. He must at least know where to put it. On the downside, he was very young, not that much older than Sansa, and Shae doubted he was the sort of boy who would sleep with his lord's wife. 

She sighed. “I think you should talk to your lord husband about it.”

As will I, she thought to herself.

 

* * * * *

Late that evening, she was lying in post coital exhaustion, with Tyrion's head resting on her naked stomach. She ran her fingers idly through his hair, as his breath tickled her lower ribs. 

“Sansa has heard the rumours about Pod.” She told him.

“Hmmm.” 

“It's got her to thinking, maybe she should find out what all the fuss is about.”

“What?” He was paying more attention now.

“She's thinking his may be the seed she needs to meet her needs.” She was quite proud of that line.

Tyrion laughed. “No.”

“Why not? You trust him don't you? And it sounds like he might have some bedchamber skills to boot.” She smirked.

Tyrion sighed. “I suppose no good deed goes unpunished, does it?”

She looked askance at him.

“My dear, when Pod walked into that whorehouse, those whores had already been paid. The money I gave Pod was just for show. The money I gave them, was to pay for a reputation. And for the usual de-flowering services of course.”

Shae was gazing down into his eyes. “My clever man.” She purred.

“You are not to tell a soul. It would undo all my hard work. That boy badly needed a confidence boost if he was to continue in my employ.”

“What he needs is a lord who doesn't make him drink so much!” She cuffed him lightly across the head.

“Ow! At least I don't beat him!”

“No, you take it out on his liver instead.” She blew the hair from her eyes, and ran a thumb across Tyrions lips. He took her thumb into his mouth and sucked it gently. Her lust stirred.

“Hmmm. And now Sansa has the wrong idea. How are you going to fix that one, clever man?”

“First things first.” Replied Tyrion, as his fingers found her, still wet.

* * * * *

Shae woke in the very early hours of the morning, to find Tyrion awake and searching through a pile of books.

“What are you doing?” She asked, yawning.

“Searching for a solution to our problem.”

“Which one?” 

“If you have more than one solution, I'd like to know.”

“I meant which problem.”

“The Pod problem. Or the Sansa problem, depending on how you look at it.” Tyrion frowned.  
“Ah, here it is.” He flicked a few pages through a small book, then came back to the bed to hand it to her. 

She began reading.

“Hmmm. Pictures too. How.... informative. What is this smut?” 

“A highly regarded tome in certain circles, I assure you. Oh look, I always wanted to try that one. My lack of height would be a serious hindrance I suspect.”

Shae turned the book sideways. 

“Ahhhh. That could work. Shall we try it?” He nuzzled at her neck, and she laughed.

“Your going to give this to Pod?”

“No. Better than that. I'm going to lend it to Bronn, and tell him to get Pod to read it to him.”

“Clever man. But I'm not sure this is the right book.”

“You have another book in mind?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps it's the right book, but the wrong person.”

Tyrion frowned. “You mean to give it to Sansa?” He was incredulous.

“Why not?”

He threw up his hands, momentarily speechless. Then, “You'll create a monster! Be it on your head!” He was joking now.

“A monster who can do this?” She stretched her leg up and over his shoulder, as she lay back on the bed.

“Mmmmmm.” Was his only reply.


	5. Sansa – A prayer for courage

The more she tried to imagine it, the more difficult it was. A baby in her arms, a little life, so delicate and small, like Rickon had been once. But now Rickon was dead, and it was as though her heart broke a little more every time she thought of Bran and Rickon. And Rob. Mother, Father. Who knew what had become of Arya, she was likely dead too. It was just her left. Her and Jon, somewhere on the Wall. Not even a proper brother, and sworn to father no children. So what would become of the Starks? 

She sighed and though of Cersei's words. Love no one but your children, on that front a mother has no choice. But if love was such a weakness, perhaps one was better off without children? With her family dead, she was now useless as a hostage against anyone's good behaviour. But what if Joffery took her own child from her? He was cruel enough to do it. Could Tyrion stop him? Would he? If the child wasn't really his? Even if he was heir to Winterfell, if they ever went back there........and if she didn't have a child, then what? Would she be cast a side? Would she be free? Doubtful. Would they kill her? Lock her away somewhere? She hated the thought of her child being a Lannister, even if not truly a Lannister, even if Tyrion was the nicest of them. Ugh. Aunt Cersei. She shivered.

Her head was beginning to ache with all the maybes. She sipped her moon tea. She was growing used to the taste. She suspected that trying to avoid a child was the right decision, for now at least. But could she manage to deceive Tyrion?

* * * * *

Later that morning she was walking with Margaery Tyrell. When Sansa suggested they go to the practice yard to watch the squires at practice, Margaery was more than willing. Sansa followed her up the steps to the covered walk, her skirts gathered in hand as she climbed. The walk connected a tower and a library at the second floor. One side looked over the yard used for training, the other looked over the roof of the armoury and across to the stables.  
The sun was shining pleasantly, and a gentle breeze blew across the rooftops. The clang of metal on metal, wood on wood, and the shouted instructions of the swordsmen rang across the yard below.

“Are you very busy with plans for the wedding?” inquired Sansa. She had not seen very much of Lady Margaery since her own wedding to Tyrion.

“Oh yes. Every day it seems there's more to do. There is no end to it.” Margaery was gazing down at two young squires as they hacked at each other, and winced as one caught a blow to the ribs from his opponent's wooden practice sword. 

“I'm sure you will make a lovely bride.” Sansa felt pity for this girl who would wed Joffery in her place. Though she was so sure of herself, so optimistic, despite what Sansa had told her and Lady Olenna. Sansa had to remind herself not to trust them, even though Margaery behaved as if they were the best of friends. Sometimes. This was politics, she was sure.

“I hope to make a lovely queen.” She smiled at Sansa, and returned her attention to the courtyard below. “Isn't that your lord's squire?”

Pod had stepped into sight, and was readying himself to spar with another squire. They both held blunted swords and wore practice padding. They eyed each other as they listened to instruction.

When the instructor gave the word a curious thing happened before Sansa's eyes. Pod seemed almost to melt. One moment he was Pod, the next, he was a warrior. Graceful as she had never seen him before. As the two began to trade blows and footwork, it began to seem a dance to Sansa. Pod's opponent was a little shorter, but more powerful, more muscled about the shoulders. His strikes were harder, but Pod seemed to brush them away and slide around them without too much effort. At one point their swords tangled, and Pod seemed to roll down along his opponent's arm and elbow him in the ribs. The other boy stumbled, and Pod backed off as he let him regained his balance. The trip had made the boy angry though, and he came at Pod with increased fury. Pod's sword seemed to know where the blows would fall, one, two, three, but the fourth blow he began to block and then it was like his head wasn't in it any more. He leaned back as the other blade caught him a blow to his upper arm. The other boy smiled as Pod winced, but he did not allow the same chance to recover that Pod had given him. Their swords rang together repeatedly until suddenly Pod tripped his opponent as he over reached himself. He went sprawling and Pod's sword appeared swiftly at the boys throat.  
“Yield. I yield.” The boy had gone limp. Pod picked up his opponent's sword and then offered a hand to help the boy to his feet, his expression apologetic, as it often was. The other boy spat at the ground, looking disgusted, but he took Pod's hand and got to his feet.

“He's quite good. He may make a fine knight. Very gallant,” Margaery's eyes sparkled. A sure sign of trouble, thought Sansa. “and he did save Lord Tyrion's life in the battle, and speaking of your lord, how are you finding your marriage?”

Sansa swallowed. “I'm certain I would have much preferred Highgarden.” She tried for a wistful tone. She had hoped Magaery and her family wouldn't feel slighted by her forced marriage to Tyrion, instead of Magaery's brother, and although initially they had seemed cool towards her, Margaery had picked up the reins of friendship again, just as suddenly as she had seemed to drop them.

“At least we will still be sisters, when I am wed to Joffery!” She put her arm through Sansa's in a very intimate and sisterly fashion.

* * * * *

Tyrion had begun to allow her out of the red keep, under escort. The markets still had very little to offer, so she mainly went to the great sept to pray. The city was not as dangerous as it had been before the battle of Blackwater, but still dangerous enough. He would only let her go out when Bron was available to go with her. Lately he had started sending Pod along too.

She was praying to the Warrior for courage today, because this evening she planned to put Pod's name forward to Tyrion, to be the instrument of her deflowering. She wondered what he would say. 

She couldn't help the thoughts that kept going around and around in her mind. The romantic tales of knights and their ladies, Florian and Jonquil, mixed with Shae's tale, and the night of the battle when she had found the Hound hidden in her room, and he offered to take her away. When the same man had saved her from the mob that wanted to rape her and tear her limb from limb. The way they had grabbed at her, torn her clothes, and pushed her down. She pushed the thought away. It wouldn't be like that. 

Don't let it be like that, she prayed, to any of the seven who were listening.


	6. Pod - The Good Knight

Pod stood before the door. He shifted uncomfortably in his borrowed armor. It was splendid with it's deep blue enamelling and silver scrollwork, but it was too small in the chest and shoulders, and he was finding it difficult to breathe. A year ago it might have fitted him, but much had changed in a year. Still, he was grateful to Bronn for arranging it. He hadn't told him that lady Sansa was the girl he wanted to impress with it. Bronn thought it was some lady's maid that Pod was set on wooing. Bronn had a lot to say on the subject of wooing maids, but Pod refused to believe most of it. 

Pod had difficulty believing Lord Tyrion too. He suspected it was all some jest at his expense. He only hoped it wasn't the kind of jest that would see him hanged. He didn't think Tyrion would do that to him, but he might have something embarrassing planned. He'd seemed very solemn though, when they talked, and he couldn't disobey his Lord. He didn't know exactly why Tyrion wanted him to bed Sansa. He knew that his lord loved Shae though, so perhaps he wasn't interested in Sansa. But how could anyone not be interested in Sansa? She was so beautiful.

Pod sighed. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He pushed up his visor, with one hand, and knocked on the door with the other.

When the door opened, he bowed. “My Lady.” His visor slammed shut with a thunk. He peered up through the slits in the metal, to see Sansa with a quizzical look on her face.

“It's m-m-me, Pod.” He stammered, raising the visor. 

“Yes, of course! Please come in.” 

Her hair was unbound, and hung in rippling waves around her face. She wore a chamber robe of soft green, embroidered with small flowers at the sleeves and collar, tied with a golden yellow sash. The colour set off her eyes nicely in the firelight, he noted.

“Y-You look lovely, my lady.” Inwardly he cursed his stammer for returning at such a moment as this.

“And you look very handsome in armor Pod, though I hope you won't need it tonight.” She was looking at him curiously, and a little apprehensively.

“Oh, I – I thought, I, you might like a, a knight, in shining armour, you know, like in the stories....” He felt the colour rising in his cheeks. This wasn't going as well as he'd hoped.

“Oh! That's very, thoughtful of you Pod.” Sansa seemed flustered. “Would you like something to drink? I have some sweet cider for us.”

“Yes, thank you my lady.” Pod's throat seemed very dry. His tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth. He was glad it wasn't wine, he didn't think the butterflies in his stomach would have appreciated wine. He unfastened the sword belt and put it aside so he could sit down, then realised he was still wearing his helm, and removed that too. 

Sansa handed him a cup, and he took a long swallow.  
“It's very good.” He didn't know what else to say. Sansa didn't seem to know either. Pod shifted uncomfortably, and tried to adjust the strap at his right side, but his left hand didn't want to co-operate, so he started to remove his hand guards. What had he been thinking to dress up in all this? He was only squire after all.

“Let me help you with that.” 

Suddenly Sansa was on her knees in front of him, removing his hand guards. As she leaned over he caught the smell of her hair, a light hint of flowers, and an aroma that reminded him of clean snow. She smells of the north, he thought with surprise. Some impulse made him take her hand in his, and bring it to his lips. Very lightly, he kissed her fingers.

“My lady.” It was almost a whisper. He opened his eyes to see her smiling at him shyly. Her fingers crept up his arm to find the buckles on his arm guard, and as she slipped her hand around his side to find the side strap, Pod moved to stand up, taking her hand and helping her up too. Together they got the armor off. It was strange, he thought, to be undressed, when he had always been the one to do the undressing, for his masters. When the armor was off, she did not stop, but helped him out of his padding as well, until he stood before her in his undershirt and leggings. Then she stood, and kicked off her own slippers. Her feet were delicate and pale creatures, shy beneath the hem of her robe, until she slipped out of that too. Underneath she wore a light silk night dress, it's ties undone at her chest, her nipples discernible through the light fabric in the firelight. Pod felt his cock stir, and a heat filled his chest. He wanted. But he was cautious. 

Take it slowly, treat her gently. Tyrion's words echoed in his mind.

He reached out to touch her hair, soft and silky, he pushed it back so he could kiss her, and she stepped forward and into his arms, pressing her body against his, warm and inviting. His head swam and it was hard to resist the temptation to crush her to him tightly. Her mouth was to his, and he tasted a hint of lemon, mint and cider, and the touch of her tongue made him feel weak. My first kiss, he thought. The whores didn't kiss me. How strange he hadn't thought of that before now. 

He was getting lost in the sensation of her, the feel of her warm body through the cloth between them, her hair against his hands, the wetness of her mouth on his. His own mouth moved as if it had a mind of it's own, then he felt her sharp intake of breath as his cock rose to press hard against her hip bone. She moved back in surprise, and he felt a moments disappointment, but in another moment she had moved her hand hesitantly to his crouch, to feel the outline of his manhood through the cloth. A soft moan escaped his lips, and Sansa looked up in wonder.

*The next thing he knew, she was pulling his shirt over his head. Suddenly, almost unbelievably, he was standing naked before Sansa. It crossed his mind briefly, that now would be the moment for Tyrion and Bronn to leap out from behind the curtains to point and laugh at him. But the thought vanished as quick as it had appeared, as Sansa drew her own shift up and over her head.

Her skin was so pale, the hair between her legs a soft brown, her nipples soft pink, on high, firm breasts. He longed to take one in his mouth. Instead he reached out a hand, and gently cupped the side of one breast, running his thumb over the nipple. She sighed, and her nipple became firm under his touch. Her hand came up to graze his cheek, and her fingers were in his hair. He went down on one knee, and took her nipple gently in his mouth and pulled, flicking his tongue across it. She moaned, and he felt her knees tremble, so he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up, walking her over to the bed.

She climbed up into it, and drew him in beside her. He reached out to run his hands over her shoulder, down her side, to her hipbone, to brush over the soft hair at her womanhood. At his touch she spread her legs hesitantly. He cupped her warm mound, his fingers resting over what he hoped was her opening. Looking into her eyes, he thought he saw something there. A moment's hesitation? Fear? He moved his hand no further, but instead leaned down to kiss her. She responded, and the kiss grew deeper. He felt a wetness on his fingertips, and his cock reared up in response. Just when he thought he couldn't get any harder, he felt her hips move against his hand, as she positioned herself against his fingers with tentative movements. He slid a finger into the wetness, and they both groaned into each others mouths. Oh gods. He wanted to be inside her so badly it hurt.

She wrapped her arms around him and drew him down on top of her, and as they kissed, she spread her legs further, and wrapped them around him. His fingers slipped out of her to grasp his cock, he paused.

“Are you ready my lady?” He whispered hoarsely in her ear.

“Do it.” She whispered back.

He tried to be gentle, but it wasn't easy. He fumbled. Twice. On the third she tilted her hips and guided him in herself. She cried out as he sank into her, and he stopped.

“I'm sorry, my lady, did I hurt you? I, I'll stop.” He tried to pull out of her, but she clung to him fiercely.

“No! I just... please, Pod.” She put a hand to his cheek. “Please.”

He eased back into her, and she closed her eyes. Slowly he drew out again, and she grasped his hair, pressed her heels to his thighs. Her hips rose to meet him on the next stroke, and they both gasped as he sank in all the way this time. A few more strokes, and he felt the wave building within. He was breathing hard against her neck, her wonderful long smooth neck, stretched out against the pillow. Her eyes closed, her mouth open in an O. He was looking into her face when the wave overtook him. As his seed spilled into her and he shuddered and shook, images flashed across his mind. 

Sansa on the deck of a ship, donkeys riding through snow, and a little boy standing beside a castle made of snow with a smashed wall. 

The images passed in a fraction of a second, and Pod lay speechless, his head between Sansa's breasts. As his breathing slowly returned to normal, he felt Sansa's breathing slow too. He looked up.

“Are you all right?” 

There were tears in her eyes, but she brushed them away, and smiled at him.  
“Yes. Don't mind me. A maiden is supposed to cry, isn't she?”

“I'm sorry my lady, I never meant to hurt you.” He felt wretched, this was all wrong.

“Pod, you didn't. It was... a good kind of hurt. Sweet.” She rolled towards him and wrapped an arm around him, pressing her lips to him once more. “Thank you Pod.” She whispered, as she lay her head on his chest.

He was drifting towards sleep when he remembered the preparations he had to make for the king's wedding the next day. He slipped from the bed and dressed himself, but before he left, he leaned down to kiss lady Sansa's cheek. She was fast asleep.

 

* * * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is! The smut you were holding on for. I imagine the story dovetailing back into Joffrey's wedding the next day, although that all depends on how Season 4 goes I guess!

**Author's Note:**

> Please post feedback! Don't be shy.  
> What you like/don't like, want more, etc.
> 
> 23 July 2013 - I've done a small edit on the previous 3 chapters, mainly for spelling, but also to make a few small dialogue changes, and to try and cut down on the plot repetition across character viewpoints. Writing multiple viewpoints is a challenge. Especially with Sansa. What is up with her?? hehehe.


End file.
